


Patience

by AnonPenguin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Traits, Breeding Kink, Captivity, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fondling, Grooming, Homeless Rey (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced past neglect, Light Petting, Masturbation, POV Ben Solo, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Content, Size Difference, Unsafe Sex, but maybe a little taming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 06:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonPenguin/pseuds/AnonPenguin
Summary: Ben Solo takes a chance on a stray that lingers outside of the diner where he works. He's been waiting his whole life for the chance to have something of his own.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags.
> 
> To the two souls who encourage me, thank you ❤️

It’s brutal, being alone and hungry.

Perhaps it’s why he’s still working this job.

It’s pretty shitty, but then, so’s the town.

He thinks all too often about leaving, pondering it again when he’s outside on the back steps after hauling mountains of diner trash to the dumpster. But then he finds her.

A purpose.

His purpose.

It’s a weekly occurrence, chasing away the vermin. Desperate scraping noises and shadows hidden under thick fog. The night is nearly done, the last bits of bitter coffee have been emptied and Ben lifts the large metal closure from the dumpster when he catches sight of her form stretched and sifting nearby.

She’s skin and bones, her hair matted and coat dusty.

The lid slips before he can effectively judge his next move, clanging and ringing, and he’s left with the hissing and flash of movement as she scurries away into the night.

He waits with his hands in the pockets of his worn leather coat, his breath curling like smoke in the cold, watching for another approach. The evening closes with a toss of his apron in the laundry bin and his fingers gently placing a takeout carton with a tuna sandwich inside by the back door.

* * *

When he returns the next morning for another shift, he’s pleased. 

A warmth overtakes his belly when he opens the takeout box and finds the contents missing. It’s been a long time since he had something to care for. Ben dreads emptiness, working double the shifts to fill his days with something more than the silence that awaits him in his home. He swallows, forcing down a thick lump forming at thoughts of nurturing and guarding something other than himself. 

He can’t help it. 

He’s always had a big heart. 

He tosses the container in the dumpster and begins his shift.

Sitting out back during his break, he whistles out into the open, shaking another container and quietly leaving it in the same place as before.

No matter how many times he does it, each time, the contents disappear and the recipient is gone without a trace.

* * *

The night that their destinies collide, he’s returning to the diner to retrieve his cellphone. Pushing open the heavy back door to leave, he catches her shape leaping behind the wall.

The container sits, the lid open like a hatch to reveal the contents still safely tucked away inside.

He picks it up, walking further out into the space of the alleyway. He whistles, just like the first time, listening for a shuffle or skirmish in the deep, dark corners. With a little shake of the box, he waits until the gentle thud of steps pad their way from behind the dumpster of the neighboring noodle shop.

The week has been kind to her complexion, although he’s sure her eyes are still lacking in color. Her collarbone isn’t nearly as prominent and Ben imagines with better care, the line of her neck having a lovely, feminine grace.

He holds the box out to her, bending his frame low to meet her closer at her level. He opens the box when she dares to stretch out in permission and steps back to beg her to follow. A tiny mewl escapes her throat, the loss of a meal a heavy weight on her tiny frame.

He lifts the lid again, stepping back towards his car slowly until her head tilts in question and she begins to follow him to the passenger door.

It’s no effort, really. She’s so hungry and dirty. She just needs the warmth of the heaters blasting inside and the comfort of buttery leather seats to hold her safe.

Once she’s home, he can care for her properly and never look back.

* * *

  
  
  
She’s quiet in the car ride home and all of the way up the steps to his apartment.

She’s not interested in being carried, lightly stepping ahead of him as he ushers her around. 

No identification, no hint of whether she belongs to someone else.

Ben seems to have earned a fair amount of trust. When he offers her a seat, whether the car or the living room of his home, she curls up and barely makes a sound. Just a small hum of her breath circling around her.

The labored efforts her body makes are likely from the lack of care and food, and she doesn’t need to worry about that ever again. He can care for her, if she lets him.

He wants to curl up next to her and weep. Not wanting to frighten her, he moves as slowly as his heart will allow, his whole self vibrating with an energy that he carefully contains in his swaying limbs.

How long has he longed for a sacred dominion over something this precious?

Since his formative foundation was made?

Since his parents sensed a disconnect and closed the door for him?

Ben watches her from an opening in the kitchen as he gathers a few items and prepares her something for supper.

She’s rare. 

Sable, maybe. Chestnut once the caked dirt is cleaned from her body.

He casts his eyes down, burying the image of her stretched and happy across the sofa.

He’s waited so long. He can wait a little longer.

* * *

  
  


He sets the bowl in front of her and stands, waiting to see with his own eyes and feel the immense pleasure that he’s missed each time she sneaks to take his offering.

She sniffs a bit, looking up with glowing green eyes and asking permission.

“Go ahead,” he says, adding, “You’re safe now.”

He can’t help it.

There are so many ways in which he will care for her, please her, prioritize her above all else. His heart wants to pour it out in a long glass for her to consume drop by drop.

He’s smiling, his feet light.

He’s so busy waxing poetically he doesn’t realize that she’s already picking through the bowl, nibbling quietly with a soft smack of her lips at every bite.

* * *

  
  
Ben knows he’s stubborn, but so is she.

Her body is desperate for the clean promise of soap and water. The bath seems a natural option, but instead he selects the shower, nearly tossing her under the spray and holding the shower curtain shut against her protests. It takes a few minutes before she calms and collapses, defeated, under the warm spray. Ben peeks inside, a creeping blush gathering on his face at the site of her dripping form.

She’s entirely too lovely for this world.

He watches as some of the cruelty that she’s suffered melts away under the warm water, but lathers his hands to help guide the rest of it down the drain.

His large palm grips her nape while the other scrubs her scalp. It’s possible that he may need to trim little bits that are matted here and there.

She’s likely to hiss and spit at that until he holds her close to his chest, a thought that has him wishing he could cut away at every bit of her just for an excuse to press her too tightly and feel her fluttering heart purr closely against his own.

He’s lost in this newly found future when her glossy strands reveal themself to say hello.

Sable.

He  _ knew  _ it.

He coos and shushes her, combing through.

“Shh, you’re safe now,” he says, whispering, “Mine now.”

He says it, biting his lip, unable to take it back. Pleasure extends through his body as she turns her head and leans her face to his palm, nuzzling.

* * *

  
  
“What should we call you,” Ben asks her.

He reaches out, hesitantly, leaving his large palm open.

She’s so sweet and pure.

Wrapped in the quilt from his bed, she stares, blinking at his movements around the room. He tosses a few things on the bed, noticing the way she jumps back in surprise.

She’s following him, studying him, which he loves. How keenly he desires someone’s full attention.

He halts the movement of his feet, recognizing the familiar flood of nerves taking hold. His palms sweat, and he rubs them repeatedly over the front pockets of his jeans to chase any remnants of doubt that elicit the nightmares of his younger years.

Nightmares of those charged with protecting him filching everything he loves most in the world.

Ben Solo.

Nothing of his own.

Until now.

Her eyes widen and he watches her slink back against the oak headboard as he rubs furiously against his jeans, desperate to stop the ache low in his gut. 

He can’t catch his breath, panting and choking as she buries herself further into the quilt until he can only see her eyes crowned in silk. He wants to be the quilt. He is a quilt. Stitched together from misshapen, old and salvaged pieces. He is a quilt, and he wants to be the thing that wraps her, warms her, and draws the simple purr of pleasure from her tiny throat.

New sweat forms on his brow just as the sweat on his palms turns dry and hot.

He chokes as her eyes squeeze shut and the light in the room blinds him.

He’s gasping and it all spins in a lovely haze of bodily ether pouring from him.

Oozing into something all made from her very presence.

* * *

His body is clean and ready for their first night in their home.

“I suspect you’ll have some thoughts on where you want to sleep,” he says, walking around the bedroom and putting a few freshly laundered things away. 

He holds one of his undershirts close to his chest, pausing before he continues. “I have a dream,” he says, swallowing, “I have a dream that one day you will be comfortable in here with me, but until then, you have the freedom to sleep wherever you wish.” 

He smiles, awkwardly shuffling towards the bed to stroke her ear and the soft hair behind it. 

“You’re home now.”

* * *

She sleeps on the couch the first night, which annoys him.

He wants so badly to feel her warmth close to him, but he has to be true to his promise. Words have meaning, or else they should. When you say that you sent someone away, it means that you sent them away. When you say you love them, it means you love them.

Or, it should.

He is restless that first night, wondering if she’s comfortable. He creeps down the hallway in the middle of the night and feels a rush of relief when he can only hear the hum of appliances and her slow, even breathing. He double checks the locks on the front door and pads quietly to his bedroom.

He calls in sick from the diner for a few days, eager to have her settled into a new domestic bliss. He orders takeout, letting her eat straight from the box for one of their meals, but insists they eat at the small dining room table for the rest.

She sleeps off and on the first two days, and Ben can’t be sure if it’s in her very nature to be this lethargic or if she’s simply craving to catch up on the hours of sleep she’s likely missed out there in the wildness of the world.

She hides when she hears the shower turn on, so he opts to give her a break by wiping her down with a warm, wet cloth, but she seems to regret this turn of events even more.

He tells himself to be patient, but on her third night, he walks to the living room and insists that she sleep in the bed.

He places her on the pillow next to him, but he huffs when she curls up at the foot of the bed and falls asleep.

* * *

A few days together pass, and the diner calls, desperate for his help.

Ben leaves her dinner on the table and kisses her forehead, lingering when he feels her nuzzle him a bit.

His chest is tight all throughout his shift when he thinks of her, nearly burning a simple patty melt as his mind melds into a single thought.

He rushes home, unlocking the door and calling out.

The food is gone, but it’s too terribly quiet.

He stops in the living room, his eyes darting around to see items misplaced.

A pillow, the glass of water.

Ben finds her in the dark, stretched across the bed. The little lioness of the manor, comfortable while the king is away. He smiles and breathes a sigh in relief as he picks her up from her spot, pulling her close.

He hums as he kisses her face, murmuring as she paws at his chest and digs her nails into him.

“I couldn’t find you. So happy you’re here where you belong.”

Ben doesn’t want the evening to pass a minute without her presence. He pulls her into the shower with him, rubbing her belly in long strokes, careful not to linger on tiny buds that pucker under his touch.

Patience is the truest virtue.

He lets her pace as she dries, but doesn’t bother to wrap her in the large quilt, choosing instead to drape it over the bed for them to both live under.

He places her on the bed, ushering her to the spot on the pillow next to him.

It feels momentous.

Climbing in, he wraps himself around her as she shivers. He pets and strokes her ears, her head, returning every little nuzzle she’s presented to him in their short time in knowing each other. 

His breath.

He holds it, waiting until he hears an even ocean of sound from her chest.

Underneath the fabric quilt of flesh, her heart beats wildly for him.

Finally.

“I love you, you know.”

She stirs, her lids opening.

“I know that it’s soon, but I know. I know it.”

She sighs, and his body answers her excitement.

Without reservation, his hands reach to soothe her again, stroking the newly formed pouch at her belly. He’s fed her so well. The weeks of worry, and now she’s beginning to fill and grow healthy again.

He did that.

She moves in his hold, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the feel of fine wisps of hair. Reaching further down, he stills when his fingers dip into an opening.

She squirms with a yelp, but he wraps his arm further and tighter.

“Shh, kitten.”

He wasn’t planning on things moving so quickly, but he can’t help the way he feels, the way she feels as she whimpers at his touch.

It vibrates in his ribs and ventures straight to his heart as his hand shakes and snakes to the entrance. He pulls away, scrambling to his knees and hovering above.

He refuses to join himself to her the first time with his hand.

She’s eager, bracing herself and pawing.

He caresses and circles that precious entrance before prodding at it with the head of his cock. Ben begs himself to move slow, but curses as he slips and eases inside.

She’s tight. 

A sweet channel, squeezing and clutching his length, even as she whines and claws at the mattress. Her lips round and she sings for him, crying in a mournful tone. 

Her back stretches and curls, her hips seeking more as he slowly moves in and out.

In and out.

In.

Out.

“Please.”

In.

Out.

“Please, stop.”

She sings, so sweetly.

“Don’t worry, kitten.”

In.

She mewls and cries and reaches for him.

Out.

“Sweet, sweet girl. Mine.”

“Stop.”

In.

“It’s okay, kitten. You’re home.”

Out.

“It hurts.”

In.

“It hurts.”

Out.

“Kitten, please. Please don’t leave me,” he pleads, pressing his lips to her neck.

She’s sinking, her back arching and allowing him to press deeper.

He grunts and groans, his movements becoming quick. He’s touching her everywhere now, his virtue thin and weak at the feeling of her small breasts, pink nipples, and her exposed belly. His finger dips into her navel, a marker for where to grasp. Ben presses his fingers, dreaming of the swell of her, round and full of him. He holds onto the image while he fucks into her.

She’s holding onto the headboard, clinging and shutting her eyes.

“Oh, kitten. Kitten. I’m gonna...take care of you. You and a whole litter.”

She grabs on tighter, whining as his hips slap harder. His pussy grips him and tries desperately to keep him close. He’s close. Closer than ever to sitting at the foot of his dreams.

“Come on, pet. Gonna fill you. Fill you with a whole litter.”

She thrashes, and he fulfills his promise. 

Giving her the possibility of a whole brood.

A whole family to love.

She’s staring at him, and Ben can hear the words seeping from his heart to lips. His deepest devotion she’s heard out loud.

He collapses, tucking her at his side and staring at her wide, furious eyes.

He kisses her nose and strokes her ear, smiling as she resists and then gives in to his touch.

  
  
He cups her between her legs, holding in the sticky, warm gift.

He presses a finger into her mouth and rests it there, imagining the tacky feel of a feline tongue to respond.

A warm chuckle leaves his mouth as he pulls his hand back to guard from sharp teeth.

“How does it feel, Kitten, when I fill you with my cum?”

“Don’t call me Kitten. My name is Rey.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Rey is not a cat.


End file.
